


I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (not mentioned) - Freeform, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Foster Care, M/M, Past Abuse, Shy Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 23:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12443892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Louis Tomlinson is well off. One might even call him rich. After working hard and building his personal fortune for so long, though, he's lonely and looking for his chance to help someone less fortunate.A perfect opportunity comes along in the form of a program to let a child in the foster system stay for the winter holidays. Enter Harry, a kid just a year away from exiting the foster system and aNote: This fic is for the 1D Amnesty Week, and thereforeis not finishedandwill never be finished.





	I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here

**Author's Note:**

> You might note that I've checked both "no archive warnings apply" and "underage". Please note that during the written part of this fic, Harry is seventeen and Louis is in his twenties. The original plan for this fic was for a blooming relationship to take place only once Harry was out of the foster system and a full adult. No actual relationship is formed between them in this part of the fic so there is no actual "underage" going on, but I've checked that part just to be safe.
> 
> This was one of the first fics I truly started writing, and although i've published thirty-some fics since I put this one on hold, it's still one that I'm fond of and I'm happy for the chance to publish it in some form. I hope you all enjoy it, for what it is.

In the summer, when Louis first bought the cottage, the flowers danced in the sunlight. The grass, soft under bare feet, reached hopeful tendrils to the sky. The sun shone warm rays down onto the thatched roof more than seemed possibly in the rainy land of England. It had been the perfect buy, in Louis' mind; a peaceful getaway in the middle of nowhere. The homely feel of the cottage, warm colours and flowerbeds, copper pots and pans and plush furniture, reminded him of his grandparents' house and childhood visits. He knew this would be a purchase he wouldn't regret. Off behind the back garden and short stone fence lay acres of sheep pasture, in front of the cottage rows of berry-bearing bushes separated his land from the country lane it was connected to. Picturesque was an understatement.

Now, he still viewed it as a perfect purchase, but as the seasons changed and he spent more time in his home away from home (Monday through Thursday he still spent in his small London flat, for an easier commute to work), he had started to realise something was terribly missing.

He was lonely.

During school hols, like before term started, and bonfire night, he had convinced his mum and Dan to bring his sisters to  stay, and when they did the house had been so full of life. It had been absolutely wonderful, and clearly what the cottage had been made for. Sisters bickering over using the mirror in the bathroom, baking sweets for everything, sitting out back with the twins watching the stars appear, THAT was the best part about owning a bit of the country.

But now, winter holidays just around the corner, his mum had phoned him up to inform him that Dan had surprised her with an absolutely out-of-nowhere trip to Paris, France for them and the girls ("and sorry, Boo Bear, he figured you couldn't get the time off work, so..."). So now Louis was lonely again and only slightly devastated over the loss of the perfect Christmas hols he had been imagining.

He had taken two weeks off with the intent of spending it with the family. And of course he didn't blame Dan because Dan was doing this for the sake of his mum but okay maybe he was a little upset because Dan could at least have  _ asked, _ right?

He had considered his options. he could call off his call-off, work through Christmas because he had nothing better to do, really, and save that time for spring break or summat.

He could sit in his little cottage and play hours of Fifa and watch X Factor reruns for three weeks. Probably get drunk a lot. Be lonely.

He could stalk his family to France. But that seemed rude since he  _ wasn’t invited  _ and no, he would rather sulk in private, thank you.

Yet what finally made his mind up was a flyer on the tube one morning. It was for a new program for foster children - a chance for them to experience Christmas in a real family setting, get some one-on-one attention for a change.

Louis loved his sisters. He loved kids. This sounded perfect. He sent in his information online and waited (it required a thorough background check, of course) a few weeks before receiving an email with a name and a train arrival.

The kid he was taking home for the holidays went by the name of Harry Styles.

— 

He had been given a short biography of the kid - birthday; February 2nd, allergies; none, favourite food; bananas, the list went on like that. It didn't really tell anything about the kid's personality, or why it was he was in the foster system, but Louis figured he'd learn the former pretty fast and the latter was really none of his business.

The day before the train was meant to arrive, Louis stopped at the market to stock up on essentials. he'd never been very good at cooking, but thought he'd pick up ingredients to at least try his hand at a couple of his favourite dishes (parma chicken, taquitos, and he'd always been at least decent at omelettes). Fresh fruit for the fruit bowl that he always avoided like the plague but his sisters would devour between meals, plenty of bananas to go in it too, and Jaffa cakes. Because everyone loves Jaffa cakes.

Then, just in case, he added a box of tea bags to his cart. He already had a right stock at home, but on the off-chance that this kid drank as much tea as Louis himself was known to, they could well go through quite a few boxed before the holiday was up.

He unloaded it all into the kitchen back home, in a way he knew would get him in trouble with his housekeeper later. Niall, his housekeeper and gardener, came twice a week to clean the house, make sure it looked lived in, and stock the kitchen. He knew what Louis was prone to eating (nothing that involved too much cooking - or any cooking), and bought accordingly. He had a very exact system of organisation in the kitchen, and Louis had gotten in trouble more than a few times for messing it up.

Oh well. Niall was as good-natured as they come. He'd share a beer with him next time he showed up and all would be forgiven. Louis' circle of friends didn't tend to be particularly large, but he did consider Niall to be in it. Back in summer, when Louis had first hired the Irish boy, the first thing Niall had done after getting a preliminary walkthrough of the cottage by Louis was invite him over for a drink and a game of Fifa. Louis didn't often have free time but he was more than happy to take Niall up on his continuous offers when he could.

— 

The next day found Louis waiting at the train station with a hand-made sign. He felt a little ridiculous, mostly because anyone getting off this train could be him, and Louis had no idea. The program had neglected to send any picture or even physical description, and he was starting to think this could be a liability on their part. Anybody could walk up to him and claim the name Harry Styles and Louis didn't have any way of telling if it was true.

The 12:01 arrived - as expected, really - late. This gave Louis plenty of time to question if this was really a good idea. He loved kids, loved spoiling his sisters rotten (much to his mother's chagrin) and was more than ready to jump at the chance to help out a kid in need too, but.. Maybe this kid was expecting a whole family to be waiting for him. Louis really hoped he wouldn't be a disappointment. As much as he had always wanted children of his own. the right guy had never come along - the kind interested in more than a one-night-stand - and eventually Louis had just found his work taking priority.

But also, Louis found himself worrying about what the kid would be like. Everyone heard stories about kids in the foster system, how jaded they became, what horrible stuff happened to land them there. Louis wasn't going to judge a kid for what he'd been through, that was beyond their control, but... he would really rather not get robbed at gunpoint in the dead of night. Was that likely?

It probably wasn't likely. 

Probably.

As is known to happen when one stops watching the kettle to boil, the train arrived as Louis was lost in his thoughts.

He scanned the small number exiting the doors. Most walked with purpose, this journey clearly a common one for them. There was an Asian couple - clearly tourists - who lugged suitcases with them. A grandmother tottered after two tiny grandchildren. A number of men in important looking suits walked off without removing their eyes from their phones.

Where was Harry?

A tap on his shoulder startled him into almost dropping his sign. He turned and found himself face to face with a boy equal to himself in height. He had wavy chestnut locks, pale skin and green, very green, eyes. He had a rucksack over his shoulders and a hunch to his posture, making him appear shorter than he probably actually was.

"Hey, I'm... I'm Harry." He spoke languidly, as if there was no hurry to what he needed to say. He was clearly nervous, or uncomfortable, his eyes not looking up farther than the sign Louis now held at his side.

"Harry Styles?"

The boy made a hum of agreement and all Louis can think to say is, "You're taller than I expected you to be."

This seemed to be the wrong comment to make because the boy shrinks into himself a little more than his hunched shoulders had already indicated. "'M sorry," he spoke more in the direction of the floor than at Louis, "I know I'm probably not... what you were expecting..."

"No, no, it's not an issue or something! I was just expecting you to be younger-" shit, that was wrong too - "but the program never gave me any age to go by, so that was just my mistake, assuming things. But, um..." he can still save this. Recover this. He's not gonna let two weeks be awkward ones because of a horrible start. "Fifa will be a hell of a lot more fun with someone who can actually offer me some competition, yeah?"

Maybe Harry had stopped shrinking into himself, Louis can't really tell. He does offer a small smile - still to the floor - and a quiet, "I'm shit at Fifa, actually."

Louis can work with that. "Well so are my sisters, but even they have managed to beat me once or twice. Maybe you'll get lucky too."

Harry nodded but seemed to have no response to that. Damn, this was awkward as hell. Maybe getting him drunk would help- no, he was probably underage and that would definitely be illegal in one form or another, think again.

Louis offered his free hand, not holding the sign, and motioned toward Harry's rucksack. "I can take that, my car's right outside."

Harry seemed more than a little nervous about handing it over, but he complied. Louis ditched the sign in a bin on the way out of the station and prepared for what would certainly be an awkward drive home.

— 

Well, he wasn't WRONG, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Louis unloaded Harry's rucksack into the back seat of his Vauxhall and went to start the car as Harry folded himself into the passenger seat next to him.

"I live about fifteen minutes from here, so it shouldn't be too long of a drive," Louis stated as he left the train station. He got a nod of understanding from Harry in return, who was staring out the windshield. Louis wondered how much ues it would be to try to hold a conversation with Harry. It's not that he wouldn't be up for trying to converse with the lad, but seemed clear that Harry needed some time to adjust to the situation (he hoped that was what this skittishness was), so he decided to try a different tactic.

"I've got CDs galore in the glove compartment, and I'm handing over complete control of the sound system to you - you're the honorary DH until we reach our destination."

There was a moment when it seemed like Harry wasn't going to respond (and Louis was thinking back to those thoughts he had earlier in the train station about troubled foster kids), but then Harry's fingers were twitching over the radio dials and some hipster shit that Louis had never heard before was playing softly through his speakers. Harry seemed to know it though and his whole countenance was shifting, he swayed slightly with the music as it played and went for Louis' glove compartment with renewed energy.

Louis had to keep his eyes on the road. He was driving. That was the responsible thing to do. But he found himself constantly glancing in Harry's direction. Clearly there was more spirit to this boy than he had initially let on. He rifled through the CDs with careful hands, as if the CD cases were made of glass (which, Louis was now feeling guilty for how scratched up most of those CDs inside the cases were). A small smile began to play on his face as he read through the titles, and when another song had played through on his hipsters tation (how had Harry even located that station so fast?), Harry popped a CD into the player.'

As it was a CD that had come from his own glovebox, Louis had expected to recognise the song that came on. Instead, whatever was playing was a complete mystery.

"What's this, then?"

Harry looked over, confusion written on his face. "You don't know your own CDs?"

"Well I thought I did but you've managed to prove me wrong. Is there a name written on the inside of the CD case?"

The boy opened up the case in his lap and took a look inside. "Um... Lottie? Lottie Tomlinson?"

"That'd be my sister's then, she must have left it here the last time they all came to visit."

Harry blanched a little and reached for the CD player. "Oh, uh, I didn't realise it wasn't yours. I'm sorry, I can put it back-"

"No, no!" Louis jumped in, hoping to head that thought off. Clearly he was too eager in that endeavor though because Harry jumped back like he had been slapped and Louis was inwardly kicking himself. "I mean, it's fine, if it's what you like! I bet she left it in here on purpose, trying to branch out my taste in music. Really, it's okay."

Harry nodded, but he was withdrawn again, back to staring at his shoes, and clutching the case with shaky fingers. He didn't attempt to touch the radio dial for the rest of the drive.

— 

Louis decided to view Harry like a homeless cat. One of the ones that wanders around back alleys and will only approach humans when their own escape plan is clear in their eyes. Harry was skittish, but clearly there was more to him than the introvert with the downcast eyes that he showed the world. Louis was positive that he was going to bring back the pleasant, music-playing Harry for good before this holiday was over.

At least, that was the plan.

"Right then, so down this hallway at the end will be your room. It's filled with beds because it's the room my sisters stay in when they come to visit. Four of them, you know, so you'll have your pick of places to sleep. Heck, you could sleep in a different bed every night if you wanted."

He dropped Harry's rucksack on the trundle bed as the boy stepped into the room behind him. It was the largest bedroom of the three (second was the room he used as a study, and the smallest was his own bedroom, he had never seen the need for a large room that he did nothing but sleep in). Opposite the trundle bed was a bunk bed, and between the two were dressers and a vanity covered in all sorts of girly products that Louis couldn't identify if he tried (except the hair products, which he had tried all of, just to see how good they make his hair smell and how much of a fohawk he could create).

As Harry surveyed the room, Louis realised it probably would have been a good idea to at least attempt at making the room look like it could belong to a boy. He hoped no "feminine products" were stuffed into corners where Harry would find them.

"I'm sorry about the mess, I don't think I realised how much this room had been claimed by the females of the species. BUT" he exclaimed triumphantly, "There is an iHome! I know for a fact that this thing can be heard in every room in the house. Use to your heart's content!" He pushed it to the front of the vanity as he spoke, brushing the other things aside. Harry clearly liked music, and he was eyeing the iHome with interest so Louis counted it as a win. "I'll let you get unpacked and settled in or whatever. Have you had lunch yet?" Harry shook his head. "Great! I'll make something. Probably. I'll at least grab things out of the refrigerator and present them as a meal. Join me in the kitchen whenever you're done!" He slipped out to let Harry claim his space and wandered down to the kitchen to see what, besides bananas, was appropriate lunch food.

— 

Appropriate lunch food turned out to be butternut squash soup. Louis located two boxes of it behind all the food he had brought back from his own shopping trip yesterday. Niall must have brought it the last time he stocked the house. Louis decided it looked much better (and easier) than everything he had ought. Soup was easy. On lazy days, soup was microwaveable. On fancy days, soup was for stovetops. Clearly, today was a fancy day

He poured both single-serving boxes into a pot on the stove before turning the burner on. 'Heat stovetop, stirring occasionally.' Easiest thing in the world, soup was. Thank God for Niall. Two beers for the next time he showed up, then. Louis busied himself with getting out bowls, cups and silverware and arranging the kitchen counter as a dining space (dining room was way too formal for the two of them, that'd just be weird). He was just filling the two glasses with water when Harry walked in.

And suddenly Harry was running past him. 'What the-'

Louis turned and was met with a small black cloud of smoke and Harry turning down the burners, doing technical things like 'stirring' and trying to stop the pot from bubbling over, all over the stovetop.

Louis took the scene in for a minute until he started hearing the smoke alarm go off. He cursed and ran to open the window over the sink. He knew from experience that he was short enough that he couldn't get it to go off just by flapping a newspaper at it. He also knew from experience that the battery inside was easily dislodged if hit with a broom.

Which is what he did.

So a moment later Louis found himself standing with a broom in his kitchen, window letting the freezing air in, and the boy he was supposed to be giving a relaxing vacation to tending soup on the stove.

Fuck.

"I managed to burn the soup," is all he managed to say.

Harry looked up from the now perfectly simmering pot. "It's... um, well it's not 'really' burnt."

Louis shook his head. "Don't try to lie to me. I saw that smoke. I didn't go to culinary school but I'm pretty sure I know what burnt soup looks like. You, on the other hand, are some sort of soup superhero! Butternut saviour!"

He meant it as a compliment, of course he did, but of course Harry didn't take it that way. Maybe he heard the sarcasm that snuck into Louis voice so often, even when it's not meant to be there. He fumbled the spoon he had been holding and shifted his posture inward again. "S-sorry. I mean, I just walked in and- I usually do the cooking, um..."

Exasperated. Louis was exasperated. "No, no Harry that's not how I meant it! Really, no sarcasm at all in the superhero comment. And no more apologising for things, okay? Even if you kick my dog or something. I don't want to hear it. Apologies are outlawed in this house."

Harry looked on the verge of apologising again but his mind visibly veers at the last minute. "You own a dog?"

That's the first question he had asked. 'Fuck yes, we're getting somewhere.' "No, but I could get one if you want."

Harry pulled a face. "M'more of a cat person, really..." his voice was small but YES that WAS an actual opinion he was voicing and Louis would go out and buy him a cat right away if he asked.

He didn't ask, of course, but the thought was still there.

They dined on butternut squash soup (which Harry insisted that he had fished all the black bits off of), and Louis promised to watch the stovetop more carefully in the future. (fuck that, he's hiring Niall as a live-in cook, that shit's too hard).

"I'm hiring someone to cook for us from now on," he told Harry. "This is just too difficult."

"This isn't too bad..." Harry interjected.

"You're sweet. Wrong, but sweet. I don't want to end up poisoning you though."

"Well, I mean... I could do the cooking. I-if you want..."

Louis frowned. "No, Love, that's definitely not the point of this holiday. You're supposed to be enjoying yourself, not doing work."

"But I don't- I just-" Everything Harry said was slow and thought out, and Louis was beginning ot learn to wait through the silences to hear him speak. "M'good at cooking. And I- I like cooking. I really wouldn't mind..."

He was staring at his feet, which dangled off the kitchen stool, toes barely grazing the tiled floor.

"Look..." Louis sighed. "I don't want you ending up my live-in cook because I don't even have the ability to operate a stove without fear of the fire alarm going off. But I'll make you a deal, all right? We make meals together. How does that sound?"

Harry deliberated, sipping a spoonful of soup. "Yeah... deal."

— 

After lunch, Louis showed Harry to the basement - his pride and joy of his little cottage. It contained every gaming system he had ever managed to get ahold of growing up, plus everything that had piqued his fancy since. Plus, the room held a collection of the plushest chairs he had ever been able to locate (all Niall-approved). He told Harry he had free run of everything, including the shelf of junk food he kept in the corner, and to run wild. Louis had a couple hours of work he needed to devote himself to, because even though eh was technically on vacation, the job of an editor is never really done when there are deadlines that have to be attended to. He hoped Harry didn't mind too much.

Fifteen minutes later, Luis found himself engrossed in editing a novel written on the American Civil War. Usually, petty grammar editing wasn't the job of editors nowadays, but if the grammar and punctuation could simply match up to the otherside quality of the writing, he was sure this author could be going places.

The door to his office squeaked open (it hadn't been closed all the way, but Louis hated working in rooms with the door wide open. It always felt like he needed to watch his back, probably because of all the times growing up when Lotte and Fizz would sneak up on him when he was doing homework or 'other things' in his room). Louis looked up to see Harry shuffling in, clearly unsure if he was allowed in the space.

"Sorry, um... I was only wondering- I know you said you were busy, I swear I'll be quiet, but I was wondering if I could- could watch you work?"

It took ages for Harry to get this out, his molasses voice crawling at glacier's pace through the room. Louis thought the request was odd, but he saw hope in Harry's eyes, and he didn't want to be the one to crush it.

"Well I mean, if you really want? It's pretty boring stuff, to be honest..."

Harry nodded though, and a smile lit his cheeks like he'd been given first pick of the presents on Christmas. He shuffled over to the armchair in the corner, "May I?"

Louis gave an affirming nod and Harry dragged it over to the desk where Louis sat, so they were facing each other. He settled into it, positioning his gangly limbs and finding in on himself so that his knees were drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them were propped on the desk. He was already staring at the manuscript in between the two of them with rapt attention as if this had always been his call in life.

The others who worked in the offices adjacent to Louis constantly made fun of his insistence of paper copies of the manuscripts he read, but he always found it so much easier to make comments and changes with his red pen before transferring them over on the computer. He thought it was probably a terribly cliched thing to do, but in this instance at least it was serving him well. Much easier to read paper copies upside down than try to read a laptop or tablet the same way.

He had expected Harry to entertain himself for hours with his array of gaming systems, but that hadn’t worked out. Here in his study, he expected Harry's attention to drift within minutes, but maybe Harry was surprising him again.

"I'm um, I'm editing this manuscript about the American Civil War, I'm hoping to have it sent off to the publishers for print by the new year."

Harry nodded. He seemed perfectly content trying to read the pages upside down that Louis had been working on.

Louis worked in silence for a while, glancing up intermittently at Harry, who continued to be perfectly content to puzzle through the latest pages of the work covered in Louis' scribbled red notes. Was he really enjoying this? Once in awhile he saw Harry mouthing through a longer word, clearly more complicated to read from the odd angle.

After a time, Louis cleared his throat to get Harry's attention. "You know, I could... here," he searched around a few stacks of papers before he found the right one. "Here, if you want you could start from the beginning. It's about ten chapters back, but..."

He still wasn't sure why Harry would be more interested watching him work than doing various other things, and moreso wasn't sure if this suggestion was what Harry would like, but a small smile was back on his face now and Louis thought he'd be willing to do about anything to make that smile brighter.

Harry nodded again and took the offered stack, settling back into his chair. The silence that settled then stretched around the room, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. Not at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm keeping this anonymous (hopefully) only because I don't want it sitting with all my finished works even thought it'll never be finished (and maybe a bit because I'm ashamed at how rather cliched it is). But I suppose I'll make no secret who I am, and if you really want to know shoot a comment my way.
> 
> Thanks for reading this if you did! Sorry basically nothing happened in it! Don't worry, it would have been a very happy ending if I had ever gotten that far ;)


End file.
